Rich Man. Poor Man…. The Richman Pour (four 4) Man…

Promotion of The World Day to Overcome Extreme Poverty in the World.

Hello Everyone,

As many of you might or might not know, the condition that has been affected me (and most of humanity in different kinds of ways) led me down a road to discover the dimension of people without.. or who are poor.

My grandfather was a multi-millionaire businessman and of the Royal Line of the Nri Kings (check Internet NRI People whose ancients priests and Kings ruled a large part of west Africa without any military might but ruled by being in Harmony with nature and by carrying a wooden staff of truth Afo) and though I tasted poverty in France, but through the romantic ideal of having to go through such for my art.

The journey I was forced to experience in New York was the journey I had had a vision of as a boy, walking the streets of New York aimlessly… That vision as a boy struck me so deeply that I spent most of my life fighting that vision, it scared me, so much the isolation I witnessed of myself. I did all I could to make sure that I would never live that experience, and swore that I would never live in New York.

Never say never, and within the second day of my coming to New York, despite all my ‘plans,’ I found myself homeless on the streets of New York. As was my philosophy and understanding, I knew that I was not a victim of my reality, but rather, that all experiences served a purpose, because I had always had the ability to read the seen and the unseen world and I could see its order, its logic, its sense… I just did not like where it was leading me (I thrive in luxury).

But I knew that I was acting as a reporter for this Energy in me. I had travelled the world, witnessing so many ways of life, so many consciousnesses, the one I had never experienced was the world of violence and poverty. This last stage of my journey made sense, but I did not like the sense.

I wrote an article at the behest of my then agent at William Morris, who had the intention of putting my story on the Diane Sawyer show, I wrote about the homeless and was promptly dropped… There are things that will sell and there were things which will not sell… Talking about the homeless was one of the things which would not sell. I promptly became homeless, mirroring the experience of the very people I had written about. I became afflicted with this supernatural condition, of having flash backs and then literal memories of the beginning of existence, channeling energies that I thought not possible. Yes, I had read about the idea that everything in existence was inside of us, but to literally have that experience where every dimension of existence and human memory rose in me, as if to say to me “here is the proof,” was something beyond my rational mind and, as I stated before, was what led me to investigate what I felt was the impossibility of my physical and energetic being, being taken over by the super self. But it also led me on a journey, the first place I stumbled into 11 years ago when I wrote that article, “The Elegant Nomad,” T.E.N…10… was Tompkin’s Square park, where I met a dying man who spoke to me about why so many people where sleeping on the streets. He had asked me to tell his story, that before he died he wished someone to tell his story… That is how I came to choose to write about the homeless as my article about New York for the William Morris Agency.

It was therefore not strange that the last leg of my journey saw me coming full circle and living with people in Tompkin’s Square park last year. Making it exactly ten years ago since I wrote that Article and met that dying man. By this time I knew that I was a living as a reporter, a scribe for some greater energy which had taken over my life in order to investigate all realities and certain dimensions that most would shy away from. It seemed this energy wanted the true experience of all the realities it was forcing me to investigate by having me literally feel and live it… at the same time investigating my sincerity. I had of course, also observed through my journey that there were certain people that this Energy in me wished me to make contact with. These people all had something in common no matter the race they came from or their economic status. They all had gifts and a certain dream or idea or voice which the universe felt was so important that they sent me to help sustain and affirm that their idea or dream was supported by Existence. As if, all these people had to become who they were meant to become, and that their dream or idea was part of some kind of divine plan.

I obeyed because I wanted to get out of my situation of living within a consciousness that was not mine, but I was enthusiastic with all these dreamers’ ideas becoming reality because they were all brilliant, awake, aware and of course, because I saw the logic, each person’s idea, talent or dream served a greater purpose than that of themselves.

There was a plan.